


Melting the Ice, Cooling the Flames

by primadonna_princess



Series: Breaking the Ice [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bridal!Fjorm, Criminal Misuse of the Swedish Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Helbindi is a Tsundere, Insecurity, Pegasi Hate Men, Summer!Gunnthra, Summer!Helbindi, Summer!Laegjarn, Summer!Laevatein, Summer!Ylgr, Volleyball, mentions of prior abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primadonna_princess/pseuds/primadonna_princess
Summary: Helbindi was definitely ugly by every conventional standard imaginable. So, Fjorm could not figure out why she couldn’t take her eyes off him.-----Fjorm only wants to keep her head down and find her place within the Order of Heroes, but as tempers fly and tensions rise, she discovers more about her sisters' keeper and herself than she ever bargained for.





	Melting the Ice, Cooling the Flames

Helbindi was definitely ugly by every conventional standard imaginable. So, Fjorm could not figure out why she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Granted, it was kind of adorable to see her little sister, Ylgr squealing with glee over a tide pool while Helbindi carried her back to the sand over and over again, trying to explain how dangerous it was to be on the jagged rocks hovering over a variety of dangerous sea creatures, only for her to ignore him and dart back to the pool as soon as she was set free. But it was unbecoming of a woman in her position to let a near-stranger take care of her sister, and certainly unbecoming to stare at a man with so little clothing.

She arrived at the Order of Heroes almost two months ago and was content to keep her head down and follow whatever orders Kiran made. Until a few weeks ago, when a new Ylgr arrived for the summer season. She desperately tried to get the attention of the main Fjorm, but that Fjorm already had a Ylgr from her own universe. Of course, she wasn’t rude enough to tell Yglr to get lost, but there was always a distance and lack of affection between the two. It took a while, but Yglr finally got the hint and accepted that she would simply have to make due with one less sister and brother.

Fjorm could not stand to see her sister, even her sister from another universe, so torn up. So, she ventured out of her comfort zone and started striking up conversations with the new Ylgr. It started as a bit of small talk, but eventually, they started opening up about the worlds they came from and complained about wearing copies of the same ridiculous outfits every day. Ylgr barely waited fifteen minutes before asking Fjorm if she would be her best friend and big sister, just like the Fjorm from her world. It broke Fjorm’s heart to see her little sister so lonely without her. So, of course, she accepted in a heartbeat.

Ylgr was so thrilled to have her big sister back that she grabbed Fjorm by the wrist and dragged her to everybody she knew to share the exciting news. Fjorm tried to keep up, but thanks to her thirty-pound wedding dress and heels, she kept falling to the ground with barely a second to regain her balance before being dragged to the next person.

It all climaxed with Ylgr practically throwing Fjorm at her best friend in the world, except her family, of course, Helbindi. She vaguely remembered meeting a similar man during the Muspell War who was even more ferocious and loud than the one she met. He was absolutely furious at the interruption and frightened the two so much that Fjorm assumed there was a mistake and prepared to get Yglr out of there, only to be stopped by... _ her _ .

Loki was easily the most feared and hated figure in the Order of Heroes. She thrived on manipulating and abusing anyone who seemed slightly vulnerable. Before she could get to her feet and run with Yglr in tow, Loki caught her in a death grip. She sank her sharpened claws deep into Fjorm’s cheeks and stared Fjorm deep in the eyes as she whispered thinly veiled threats so grotesque that it made her want to vomit there and then. Helbindi absolutely lost it at the sight. He cussed out Loki and made so many vulgar threats that she had no choice but to run off. After that, Fjorm started to understand why her sister clung to the man like glue.

Helbindi was the sort of man who would shout all sorts of vulgarities and then beg Ylgr not to repeat them. He often muttered under his breath about what a nuisance Laevatein, Laegjarn, Gunnthra, Ylgr, and herself were, but also took it upon himself to guard all the Princesses with his life. And ever since he took Fjorm under his wing, Loki hadn’t so much as looked in her direction. It was a bit unusual adjusting to being part of a big family again, but it gave her a bit of comfort and security in this strange new place.

“Fjorm!?” A voice suddenly snapped Fjorm back into reality.

She looked down to Gunnthra, or at least the Gunnthra of her new group, staring up at her with pursed lips. Gunnthra sat curled up against Gjöll, Fjorm’s pegasus, reading aloud from a history book while Fjorm sat on the saddle and tied intricate braids down Gjöll’s mane. It wasn’t that Fjorm disliked spending time with Gunnthra, or even learning about history. Far from it, Fjorm was an avid reader of historical manuscripts in particular. The problem was that these lessons were boring beyond all reason.

One afternoon, Fjorm made the mistake of letting Gunnthra catch her with a stack of history books at the beach. Excitedly, Gunnthra took this as an opportunity to educate Fjorm on every detail of Nifl history for as long as records existed. She seemed so enthusiastic that Fjorm couldn’t bring herself to tell Gunnthra that she was pouring through books highlighting the most exciting events across different continents. A book detailing the tragic Battle of Belhalla or the horrors of The Scouring could hold her undivided attention for days, but a dry retelling of the events leading up to the Nifl Parliamentary Silver Standard Debate of 1543? She would sooner pick up a book on the history of drying paint. But Gunnthra was making an honest effort and to not meet her halfway on this seemed terribly selfish.

“Yes. I’m listening.” Fjorm said as she took another blue Nifl rose and threaded it through Gjöll’s thick mane.

Gunnthra smiled a bit and shook her head before returning to describing the intense rivalry between Lord Björn Lučić and Lady Ragnbjǫrg Sjögran over who would best advocate for the interests of the Populist Faction within Parliament.

“After Lord Lučić left Lady Sjögran’s beloved sister, her grace Holmgærdh Friðþjófrson neé Sjögran, Duchess of West Ragnvaldrberg at the altar in 1539, Lady Sjögran was convinced that he lacked the necessary commitment required to fight the uphill battle to advocate for increased economic opportunities amongst the proletariat. For his part, Lord Lučić wrote a scathing opinion piece for the  _ Nifl Realisationsvinstbeskattning Economic Review  _ publicly accusing Lady Sjögran of being vindictive and too self-centered to-”

“Oi! Can I get some help over here?” Helbindi called out, storming over towards the two of them. 

Gunnthra sighed irritably and bent the corner of the page to mark their spot before shutting the book. Fjorm silently thanked whatever higher power brought him there.

“What is the matter?” Gunnthra asked.

“Your little bundle of joy keeps running up a razor-sharp cliff’s edge and practically shoving her face into a venomous sea urchin. She won’t listen to me, so one of you go up there and tell the little maggot to stop trying to kill herself because I ain’t responsible for whatever happens next!”

“Oh no.” Gunnthra threw the book to the ground and sprinted towards the cliff. “YLGR! STOP THAT! REMEMBER WHAT WE DISCUSSED?! ANIMALS ARE NOT TOYS!”

Fjorm snatched Gjallarbr ú  from the ground and prepared Gjöll to take flight.

“Is she hurt? Did she touch anything?” Fjorm asked.

Helbindi shook his head. “Nah, I don’t know how she did it, but - OOF!”

“Helbindi!”

Fjorm immediately dismounted and ran to Helbindi, who was currently clutching his stomach and groaning in pain in the sand behind Gjöll. She grabbed his forearm and turned him to lay on his back as gently as she could.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“Your flying jackass just kicked me in the gut is what happened!” Helbindi growled.

He shot a glare at Gjöll, who seemed quite pleased with herself. She proudly shook her mane and kicked dirt in his direction to drive the point home.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry. I thought you knew, pegasi hate men. They’re known for their aggression towards males. I thought I told you that.” Fjorm said.

“Well, I guess it slipped your - OW! DAMN IT!” He cried out as Fjorm tried to move his arms away.

“I’m so sorry. I should have made sure that you knew.” Fjorm said.

She bit her lip and guiltily tried to avoid his gaze. With great patience, she eventually peeled his arms away from his stomach and assessed the damage. At first glance, it seemed that Gjöll’s hoof luckily missed his bones and vital organs.

“Tch, it ain’t your fault. I should’a figured it out on my own by this point.” He said.

Careful not to cause any further pain, Fjorm traced his torso with featherlight touches trying to figure out where he sustained the most damage. Her staff hovered inches above her fingers. She dragged her index and middle finger across the muscles of his torso, outlining each with the precision of a surgeon. Helbindi lay surprisingly still under her touch, though every few seconds, he anxiously sucked in his breath.

Once she was confident that she found the spot, she invoked Gjallarbrú and watched the swollen area surrounding it return to normal. The second it did, Helbindi pushed her away, shot to his feet, and walked away from her.

“Wait, I need to check if-”

“It’s fine.” Helbindi cut her off. He continued to point his back at her.

Fjorm almost let it go, when she noticed that his legs were covered in dozens of open cuts of various sizes, presumably from his trips up and down the rock. On the back of his right calf, a particularly nasty one that trailed from just above his ankle all the way to his knee. Fjorm could not help but feel some responsibility for not helping him reign Ylgr in sooner.

“Helbindi, your legs are-”

“I’m fine.” He said.

She tried to walk around to look him in the eye, but he kept shifting to avoid her gaze.

“You have open wounds.”

“I told you to drop-”

“At least give me a few seconds to-”

“-it. It’s not a big-”

“-get the worst of them. They could get infected if I don’t-”

She grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him to face her. Under her touch, he froze and glared with a level of fury that he seemed to only reserve for Loki. Fjorm froze for a moment before taking a step back.

“For the love of all that is good and holy! Can’t you just listen!? I said I was fine! Would it kill you to leave me alone for two goddamn seconds, you crazy bitch!?” Helbindi shouted.

They stood in silence for a few seconds, and then the realization suddenly hit him. He took a moment to process what he said. Once it did, his snarl softened and then turned into a look of wide-eyed shock. Before he could begin to apologize, Fjorm turned on her heel and ran back to Gjöll. She snatched Gunnthra’s history book from the ground before hopping on and stuck her nose into it, hoping it would deter him from dragging this out further.

“Shit…” Helbindi muttered under his breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Fjorm secretly glanced over the top of her book to see him smack himself in the face and groan. He scratched his neck and stared down, pacing back and forth, unable to muster up more than a few frustrated expletives. Fjorm stayed where she was, hoping he would just give up and leave her alone.

Eventually, she got her wish. Helbindi gave up trying to think of the right words and walked towards the water where Gunnthra and Ylgr appeared to be starting a game of volleyball with Laevatein. Fjorm tried to keep her eyes on the page, but she could only manage to glaze over the pages and pages of details on how Duke Friðþjófrson’s ancestors began as humble coopers who advanced up the social ladder with dry, tired eyes. Beads of sweat trickled from her forehead and back. She enviously watched summer heroes all around her swim and lounge around in swimsuits as she broiled in her heavy wedding dress.

When Fjorm first wore the wedding dress she bought for the Battle of the Bridal Bouquet, it felt strangely comforting. The last two years were spent in a constant state of warfare, loss, and pain. When she heard of the upcoming battle, she contacted a tailor whose village she saved in the war to help her recreate the gown that the Swan Maiden wore in a picture from a book of fairy tales she used to hide under her bed and read every night as a child. For the first time since her seventeenth birthday, Fjorm was able to wear an elegant gown and go to a festival where she could meet potential suitors. It might have been silly, but she wanted to spend at least one day remembering what her life used to be like.

After being dragged to the Order of Heroes by Kiran, Fjorm completely regretted that moment of self-indulgence. Now she had to fight just as hard as she did during the Muspell War, but in a heavy, ornate gown that got her no shortage of amused, pitying smiles and lecherous stares. It felt like the universe punishing her for trying to escape the drudgeries of post-war life, even for a day.

At first, she considered asking Kiran to send her home, but when Ylgr told her that the Gunnthra from her universe was alive and nearby, Fjorm immediately changed her mind. After Gunnthra died, she felt completely lost. Hrid threw himself into rebuilding the kingdom, Ylgr discovered that she was exceptionally gifted at diplomatic relations and began building an alliance with Laevatein, but Fjorm felt like a husk, just wasting away as Rite of Frost killed her softly and slowly. The chance to be in her sister’s company again was well worth having to battle in heels and a dozen petticoats. She fought through her exhaustion and sweltering heat, waiting for Gunnthra to finish up and come back, she had no idea if she could stay awake long enough to finish the chapter.

Suddenly, a cold wet hand grabbed her arm and shook her. Fjorm shot straight up from her position curled into Gjöll. With embarrassment, she realized that she fell asleep at some point, the book now tossed haphazardly into the sand next to her. Even her love for Gunnthra wasn’t enough to keep her invested in the tedious thing. She looked up to see Ylgr, fresh out of the ocean, bouncing up and down with anticipation.

“What is it?” Fjorm asked.

“Okay, so I know you don’t like sports and your dress is really heavy, but Laegjarn wants to join in the game and we wanted to make it Muspell versus Nifl and we need one more player so it’s fair and we really, really need you to join us, please, please, pleeeease!” Ylgr asked Fjorm without taking a single breath.

Fjorm took a second to process all that Ylgr said, then shook her head.

“Sorry sweetie, I’m already terrible at sports. In this dress, I might not even be able to move. You’ll have to ask somebody else.” She said.

Ylgr pouted and turned to yell at the waiting group already arranged around a volleyball net.

“SHE SAID NO!”

A chorus of unintelligible cries of disappointment came from the group. Fjorm gave a half-hearted “what can you do” shrug and tried to relocate the part she left off on. Before she could finish a single paragraph, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

“Hey!” Fjorm squeaked as the book fell from her fingers and she was pulled to her feet.

She looked up to see Gunnthra staring down at her with exasperation. She pulled Fjorm in closer.

“Look, I know how tempting it can be to just get lost in a book, it happens to me all the time, but are you really going to sit there all by yourself all day? Can’t you join us for one game?” Gunnthra asked.

She secretly looked over Gunnthra’s shoulder to glance at Helbindi. He stared at her with wide eyes, but averted his gaze as soon as their eyes met. Without a scowl or smirk on his face, Helbindi looked like a ferocious beast released from its cage in a strange land: frightening, but too confused and anxious to be any real threat. She almost pitied him, but any sympathy was outweighed by stubborn anger about how he treated her that morning.

“Well, I wasn’t going to sit by myself, I was just waiting for you to come back. And no, I really can’t. I’m in a wedding dress.” Fjorm said.

Gunnthra gave an amused smirk and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Seriously? I’ve seen you take down three armored units on horseback in that dress in a single turn and you’re going to tell me that tossing a rubber ball around on the beach is too strenuous?”

“That’s different. I can fight. Fighting isn’t a sport. It’s about precision and accuracy and it’s focused and-”

“But that’s exactly what sports are!” Ylgr interrupted. “C’mon! Please, just one game? I’ll never ask you for anything again.”

Fjorm gave her sister a half-hearted smile, wishing that Ylgr would stop making promises that she never planned on keeping. She sighed and gave a slight nod.

“Hooray!” Ylgr cheered, wrapping her sister in a cold, wet hug. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

Gunnthra and Ylgr ran over to the court and smiled back at Fjorm encouragingly. She returned their smiles and followed a few feet behind. After all, it was just one game.

\-----

Fjorm had made a huge mistake. She couldn’t serve, she couldn’t hit, she couldn’t even stop the ball from knocking her to the ground. She was a miserable, sweaty mess and no matter how many times she failed or pleaded, her sisters refused to let her go until they finished at least three sets.

By the end of the second set, Muspell had a full fifty points while Nifl only had six, all of which came from Gunnthra. Fjorm was not completely clear on the rules, but she was pretty sure that once one team won two of the three matches it should have been over, but there was no arguing with Ylgr when she got excited about something.

Fjorm groaned and pulled herself up from the ground after failing to hit the ball yet again. Sand and sweat stuck to every inch of her skin and dried in clumps throughout her hair. She could even taste it grinding between her teeth. Laevatein and Laegjarn squealed and hugged each other while Helbindi cackled and gave them both high-fives. It was the first time Fjorm saw any of them laugh or even smile. She hated to admit it, but seeing them happy almost made the humiliation worth it.

As for her sisters, Yglr was frustrated with their lack of points and Gunnthra found the whole thing hilarious. With each passing round, Yglr grew less and less encouraging towards Fjorm. Eventually, she simply looked down at her with a slight frown and quirked eyebrow nearly identical to their Mother’s expression whenever they got too rowdy as kids. On the other hand, Gunnthra took none of it seriously and developed a bad case of condescending giggles by the end of the second match.

With great strain, Fjorm pulled her skirts above her knees and struggled to her feet with as much dignity as she could manage. She faked a smile and clapped her hands together.

“Ha! That makes fifty-three to six, you sure you don’t wanna just give up?”

Gunnthra shook her head.

Fjorm nodded.

Yglr pouted and crossed her arms.

“Alright, but it’s your funeral,” Laevatein said with a smirk. She tossed the ball back and forth as she got in position.

Laevatein gave a few preparatory swings towards the ball before finally sending it flying over. With the force of a plummeting meteor, the ball came crashing down on the three girls. Fueled by sheer frustration, Ylgr let out a war cry and hit the ball with as much force as she could manage. It just barely got over the net and almost hit the ground, but Laegjarn dove down at the last minute and bounced seven feet in the air. Helbindi gave it a hard smack and it flew directly to the side of Ylgr’s head, knocking her to the ground.

“Ow!”

“Ylgr! Are you okay!?” Fjorm cried. 

She instantly rushed to her sister’s side and knelt beside her. Ylgr rubbed the spot tenderly. Fjorm pulled her hand away and lifted her bangs for a better look. The bruise was already starting to swell and turn a sickening purple and green color. She grabbed Gjallarbr ú  and recited the Healing Incantation of Swift-Winds Balm. Ylgr got to her feet and mumbled something inaudible about not needing to be healed.

“Actually, you do need to be healed. Those things can get really painful if you just leave them be.” Fjorm said. She returned her staff to the sidelines.

“She’ll be fine.” Helbindi said.

Fjorm whipped around and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Kids need to get bruised up, it’s good for them. Teaches ‘em life lessons and shit.” He said.

On the one hand, Fjorm was glad that he was acting a bit more like his loud and crude self rather than walking on eggshells around her. But more importantly, this was none of his concern and he had no business telling her how to take care of her sister. She bit her tongue to keep from lashing out. Fjorm always prided herself on her ability to remain stoic and restrained in the most dire of circumstances, but everyone has their limits.

“Okay!” Gunnthra thankfully interrupted. She clapped her hands together and smiled uncomfortably. “That hit one of our players, so no points and it’s our serve. Correct?”

“Yeah.” Laegjarn said.

The playful, joking atmosphere was sucked dry. No one made eye contact or spoke. The silence grew more stifling with each passing moment.

Gunnthra tossed the ball into the air and the game continued.

_ Smack! _

It flew over the net and collided with Laevatein’s waiting fist.

Why was this all happening now?

_ Smack! _

Ylgr’s fingers gripped it for a second before sending it back over.

Was he just trying to upset her? Why?

_ Smack! _

Laegjarn dove to the ground and just barely hit it over to Helbindi before it landed on the ground.

She should have never tried to befriend him in the first place. She should have avoided the new Ylgr and kept her head down. She should not be hanging around this beach.

_ Smack! _

Helbindi bounced it up once to fix his aim and then hit the ball again right to where Fjorm stood.

Fjorm did not belong here.

_ SMACK! _

With all the built-up confusion, hurt, and anger reeling in her mind, Fjorm channeled it all into this one move. She jumped up over the net and spiked it down with all the repressed fury that ate her alive every single day for two years. It plummeted to the ground like a meteor.

_ THWACK! _

And right into Helbindi’s nose.

For a second, Fjorm rode the wave of euphoria from releasing years of pent up fury. And then she realized what had just happened.

“Oh no!” Fjorm whispered.

She dashed over to the sidelines and snatched up Gjallarbr ú then slid on her knees next to where Helbindi crouched. His hands wrapped protectively around his nose. She touched his shoulder to turn him to face her, but he glared daggers at her and jerked away. A bit of red liquid trickled down his mouth.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. Let me help you.” Fjorm said.

“Screw off, I’m fine!” He said.

“You’re bleeding.”

“No, I ain’t!” He growled.

But his body betrayed him as two streams of blood ran down his chin and into the sand.

“Is it broken?” Laevatein asked. She wandered over with a look of morbid curiosity.

“No!” He said.

“Fjorm! Why would you do that?” Ylgr said with a whimper. She walked over and looked down at Fjorm as if her older sister just walked over and slapped Helbindi in the face.

“It was an accident! I’m really sorry!” Fjorm insisted.

Gunnthra covered her mouth to try and hide her laughter, but failed horribly

“It’s not funny!” Fjorm said.

“I know, I know, I can’t help it.” Gunnthra said between giggles.

Helbindi pulled himself to his feet and started to walk away.

“Wait, should you not at least make sure it’s not broken? I recall a number of soldiers who let their broken noses sit and they ended up so deformed that the soldiers could no longer breath through it.” Laegjarn said with a bit of concern.

“Okay, no breathing then.” Helbindi said with a shrug.

He turned to walk away, droplets of blood leaked out behind him. Fjorm wanted to just let him go. Let him get bruised up and learn a lesson when it healed and the damage left it unrepairable. He clearly did not want help, why should she waste her breath. But she knew that if she let that happen, she would never forgive herself.

“No.” She said. It came out a bit louder and angrier than she intended.

Helbindi froze for a second, then turned around to scowl at her. Fjorm rose to her feet and made her way over, head held high and fist clenched tightly around Gjallarbr ú. If he wanted to turn this into a fight, so be it.

“Let me look treat it.” Fjorm said.

He rolled his eyes and continued on his way.

“Hey, I am talking to you.” She said.

“Piss off, I said I’m fine.” He grumbled.

His vulgarity succeeded in irritating Fjorm, but not enough to outweigh her stubbornness.

“Actually, you are not. I am not interested in arguing with you. Let me see it.”

She jogged around to block his path away from the court and folded her arms.

“Quit nagging me, alright! I ain’t here to listen to your whining all day!”

“I’ll quit nagging when you let me take care of it!”

“Screw you! Nobody asked you for your help!”  
“I don’t care!”

Helbindi tried to shove past her, but she continued blocking his path. He finally lowered his hand to reveal the blood dripping all across his mouth and down to his shoulders and a ferocious scowl. Fjorm had never seen anyone this angry in her life.

“What the hell is your problem? I don’t need your help, you miserable, spoiled-”

Before he could say something he regretted, Fjorm grabbed his jaw and lowered his head to face her. The only thing he responded to was threats and she was more than willing to stoop to his level. Fjorm did not glare at him, she did not need to.

The shock of being grabbed so harshly left Helbindi frozen. There was something wrong about his resting face. It lacked the cruelty and pride that came with his sneers and scowls. It reminded Fjorm that he was only a bit older than her and far more vulnerable than he led people to believe.

“If you want to go out to the battlefield and kill yourself to prove how tough you are, fine. But here, I refuse to just stand by and let you senselessly hurt yourself to prove a point. Just because you don’t care whether you live or die doesn’t mean I don’t.” Fjorm said.

She removed her hand, but he stayed absolutely still with his jaw hanging open. The bleeding was pretty bad, but it did not look serious. His nose certainly was not broken, but it did need to be healed. With a deep breath, Fjorm closed her eyes recited the Incantation of Imbue.

When she opened her eyes, he looked better. It was hard to judge with the blood covering his face, but he certainly was not at risk of deformity. Fjorm shook the blood off her hand and walked back to the other end of the volleyball court. He grumbled something she could not quite make out behind her. She heard the sand flying as he stormed off. Once Fjorm reached the edge of the court, she turned around to face the four remaining girls who stood around flabbergasted.

“Well, it looks like the Nifl team only needs two players now. I’ll be over there with  Gjöll should you need me.” She said.

Fjorm jogged over to her waiting pegasus. She jumped atop Gjöll’s back and buried her face into the pegasus’ mane. It was all too much. It did not matter whether it was Gunnthra, Ylgr, or Helbindi, every day she got up and worked so hard to help people and ended up worse off than she started. She pulled her face out of the tangled mane and leaned onto Gjöll’s neck. Fjorm finger-combed her way through Gjöll’s mane, braiding it along the way.

The princesses started a new round of volleyball, the seagulls scavenged for abandoned food, and the ocean waves crashed in the distance. With everything back to normal, Fjorm had time to think. She wondered if they would all be better off and happier if she just returned to keeping her head down and avoiding any connections deeper than acquaintanceship. Even though every connection she made drained her and caused no end of trouble, she knew that she needed the others far more than they needed her.

Her contemplation was interrupted by a loud whinny and snort. Fjorm followed Gjöll’s gaze and noticed Helbindi standing nearby. He looked deeply uncomfortable, like a guilty child caught by their parents. He kept swallowing as if something was on the tip of his tongue, but he was too anxious to say it. She took pity and began the conversation.

“Hello.”

“Hey…” He said. His eyes darted around the sand. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

Fjorm shrugged and gave a sweeping gesture to the sand in front of her.

“You may do whatever you please, you do not need to ask me.”

Helbindi gave a quick nod and raised his hand as a sign of thanks. He awkwardly sidestepped around Gjöll, trying to find a spot safe from her hooves. Eventually, he settled against her back, facing the ocean and nervously scratching at the scabs on his leg. Gjöll made her displeasure known with a loud whinny.

“Oh, hush.” Fjorm said as she gave Gjöll a few scratches behind her ear, which placated her almost immediately.

Fjorm could not help but smile, even at her angriest, Gjöll was too much of a sweetheart to stay mad for long. Once her pegasus calmed down and accepted that he was not going anywhere, Fjorm looked down at Helbindi. He was staring up at her, but as soon as their eyes met, his darted away. She could have sworn she saw a faint blush on his cheeks. He kept opening his mouth as if to say something, but always shut it before anything could come out.

The silence grew more uncomfortable the longer it lasted. Wanting to escape the discomfort, but not wanting to drive him off, Fjorm reached for her book. Without warning, Helbindi grabbed onto her wrist.

“Wait.” He said.

Fjorm looked down at him with confusion and fear. She drew her hand back.

“Sorry.” Helbindi said.

He handed her the book. Before she could open it, he continued.

“I’m sorry for that and...for earlier. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at. I freaked out at you and it was a really shitty thing to do.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, no it’s not. I was an asshole and I’m sorry.” He said.

Finally gathering the courage, he gazed at her with a sincere, pleading expression. It caught Fjorm off guard. Helbindi constantly smirked and scowled. Once or twice, she caught him looking awestruck or worried, but this was new. His face was mostly expressionless, but his eyes were wide and pleading. They were so dark she could see herself reflected perfectly in them. He looked so anxious like he expected Fjorm to slap him and storm off. Fjorm smiled softly.

“Thank you.” She said.

Helbindi blinked a few times as his cheeks grew warmer. Then his face returned to his perpetual scowl and turned back around. Fjorm dragged her finger along the pages, but could not find the will to read it. Something was in the way.

“Helbindi, can I ask you something?”

“I guess.”

“Well, it’s just...I don’t quite understand why my healing upset you so much.” She said.

All of the muscles in his back suddenly tensed up. His breathing grew slightly more frantic.

“I was wondering, could you let me know what I did wrong so that I don’t-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” He blurted.

Fjorm leaned forward to look at him, but he just shifted in the other direction. She hoped that she had not crossed a line.

“It’s like...it’s sort of…like...kinda...” Helbindi fumbled with his words and anxiously picked at the dry skin around his leg wounds.

Fjorm knew that people as boisterous as Helbindi usually hated being pitied, but she couldn’t help it. For all his ferocity and pride, he never seemed able to form a complete sentence when it mattered. He was abrasive, short-tempered, and impulsive, but Fjorm could not deny that he was really trying to be a better person. And while Fjorm would not let him walk all over her on his path to redemption, she was at least willing to recognize when he made a real effort.

With a sympathetic smile, Fjorm placed a hand on his shoulder. He froze under her touch and looked up nervously. When she gave him a smile and an encouraging nod, he took a deep breath and continued.

“So, you know how you thought you told me about pegasuses hating men, but you didn’t and I got a hoof to the guts?” He asked.

She nodded.

“Well, I thought that...I dunno, since I’m a messed up guy and you’re real smart, I thought you figured out on your own that, y’know...I don’t like...I can’t be touched.”

Fjorm’s eyes widened as the pieces came together. How could she have been so dense? Of course, someone who spent years serving under people as wantonly cruel as Sutr and Loki must have left him with deep scars, both psychical and emotional. She could not believe that she didn’t even consider how forcing him to stay still in a completely vulnerable position could bring back memories too grotesque for her to even imagine.

“Oh no...oh Helbindi I am so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking.” Fjorm said.

She realized that she still hadn’t taken her hand off him and immediately tried to pull it back. But much to her shock, Helbindi grabbed onto her wrist and brought it back onto his shoulder.

“Nah, this ain’t your fault. I got tons of baggage that I don’t tell nobody about. I don’t know why I expected you to know.” He said.

He moved his hand from around her wrist to rest on top of hers. Under her touch, his muscles slowly started to relax.

“Y’know, it’s funny. I’m fine with pain, I get pain, but the soft stuff freaks me out. It’s like I’m just waiting for it to be ripped out from under me.” He looked out wistfully towards the ocean. “And when you don’t, it gets me spooked. Like, it’s all a trick and soon I’ll be right back where I started, but worse because now I know what it’s like away from them.”

Helbindi turned his gaze to her hand on his shoulder with a sad smile. His rough, calloused fingers carefully traced the bones on the back of her hand. Fjorm felt like she had just been punched in the gut.

“Helbindi, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry that I hurt you...and I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you like that ever again.” Fjorm whispered.

He let out a chuckle and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about me, alright Princess. I’ve gone through way worse and came out just fine.” He said.

Looking for a distraction, Helbindi plucked the book out of her hand and looked it over.

“What’s this thing about anyway?” He asked.

“Hey!”

“Relax, I’ll give it back in a second. I just wanna know why you haven’t been able to put this thing down.” He held the book closer and squinted at the minuscule text on its cover. “ _ A Recount of the Economics and Social Consequences of the Silver Standard in Nifl From 1538 to the Present _ . Huh, that sounds...interesting.”

“It’s really not.” Fjorm sighed. “Gunnthra wanted to spend some time together and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her that no one besides her wants to spend their free time studying parliamentary economic debates and petty infighting among the nobles. I need to finish chapter 23 before dinner. She wants to discuss whether or not the Duke of North Végarðrssondotter was secretly being manipulated by his mother-in-law, Lady Hreiðunn Þórbjǫrg Vilhjálmsson.”

Helbindi grimaced and handed the book back to her.

“Damn, you are such a martyr. You’re actually gonna read it all the way through? Like, you’re not even gonna  _ try _ to skim it and then bullshit your way through the conversation?” He asked.

“No, she deserves better than that. She’s reaching out as best she can, the least I can do is to meet her halfway.”

“Tch, fine. It’s your funeral.”

She expected him to leave at the point, but he didn’t. For hours, he sat lying against her lap staring out at the ocean, stopping only from time to time to jostle Fjorm awake when the boredom started to take its toll. Fjorm switched between reading out loud when she felt her eyes threatening to droop shut and silently reading when Helbindi’s sarcastic commentary became too distracting. They took breaks to talk, change positions, argue, eat, and fight off hordes of seagulls, but neither of them made any attempt to leave. It’s hard to say whether or not they noticed, but neither one mentioned that they held hands through it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, angst and fluff with a side of redemption juice is my favorite! I would like to formally apologize to any Swedish people reading this work. It's not your fault that your language is both an unavoidable part of Nifl culture and really, really funny. And it's also not your fault that half your letters don't exist in English and therefore look funny to us.
> 
> The next part in this series might take longer to get out since I have no long weekends in the foreseeable future, but I promise I am already working on it. I won't say too much, but there will be other bridal units and a battle for the bouquet. Let me know what you think/want and I will try to live up to my non-existant hype.
> 
> Smash that kudos button and leave me a comment letting me know your thoughts and feelings. I love and appreciate all of you!


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